Safehouse
by Dark Matter 95
Summary: Just as all seems lost, Graham O'Brien is once again swept off his feet by the daring space captain Jack Harkness.


"Come on now. Can't we work this out like reasonable people?" As Graham stared down the row of masked figures, their energy weapons trained on him, he chided himself. _Seriously, O'Brien? When has that one ever actually worked? Even the Doc usually has to run away after trying that._

Graham glanced back at the sealed security door behind him. There was nowhere to run this time. He turned back to his soon-to-be executioners and closed his eyes. _I'll see you soon, Grace_.

There was a loud crack and a gust of displaced air slammed into him. His eyes shot open. A man with dark hair and an unmistakable blue-grey greatcoat stood in front of Graham, facing the masked figures who now glanced and murmured at each other.

"Jack?" Graham gasped. He had, of course, thought about the Doctor's mysterious . . . 'friend' sometimes since their brief encounter a few months ago (_lips crashing passionately against his; strong arms gathering him into a tight yet tender hug_). But he hadn't expected to actually see Captain Jack Harkness again, except maybe in the occasional furtive dream.

Nevertheless, there he was, in the flesh. "Looks like I got here just in time," Jack turned and stage-whispered to Graham with a wink.

"Take a wrong turn looking for the Doc again?" Graham guessed, trying to ignore the faint blush creeping across his cheeks.

Jack smirked. "Not at all! After last time, I've got you and your two young friends' biosignatures recorded. I _was _initially looking for the Doctor again. Then I saw you were separated from the others and surrounded, figured you could use some help?"

"Speaking of which . . . " Graham nodded towards the squad of masked guards, who seemed to have overcome their shock and confusion at Captain Jack's sudden appearance. Their weapons were now trained on both men. One of the guards stepped forward and swiped aggressively with one arm. The silent message was clear: _enough_.

Jack instantly moved to shield Graham with his own body. His hand slipped behind his back. He wore a leather wrist-strap with a mechanical device embedded inside. "Hold on to me and press the glowing button," he hissed.

"W-what?" Graham stammered as he unconsciously grabbed Jack's arm. But before the other man could reply, the guards opened fire in a volley of vibrating hums and bright flashes. Captain Jack screamed and fell back against Graham, whose breath went ragged. His heart pounded. Graham desperately looked to Jack's wrist-strap. Sure enough, one of the buttons on the exposed panel of the device was illuminated.

As soon as Graham pressed the button, there was another crack. He couldn't tell if it was more like lightning or thunder - it turned out that from the inside, it was hard to tell the difference between light, heat, sound and raw power. Then came complete disorientation and chaos. It felt like only a moment, yet the moment seemed to stretch on for eternity. Amidst the sensory deluge the only consistent feeling, the only one he knew was real, was the weight of Jack's body as he clung to it.

Finally another crack of lightning-thunder, and Graham was somewhere else. The incongruous normalcy of the living room he had been teleported into did nothing to stem the wave of nausea rising in his throat. He put a hand to his mouth and choked it back. He soon had to fight the instinct again as he looked down into Jack's vacant, lifeless eyes.

Graham's fingers searched for a pulse, but found what he already knew they would - nothing. He scrambled off of the limp body. Tears pricked his eyes as he stared in horror. _I was too slow. _He felt light-headed, the adrenaline rush fading and shock crashing in.

His spiraling thoughts shattered as Jack gasped and sat up with a jolt.

"Bloody hell!" Graham yelled.

Jack looked at him. Although pain and discomfort were clear in Jack's expression, his eyes were very alive, and his primary instinct seemed to be concern for _Graham_.

"You . . . you all right there, Silver Fox?" The shakiness of Jack's voice betrayed his attempt at bravado.

At a complete loss for words, Graham just crawled back to where Jack sat and wrapped his arms around him.

Jack let out a soft, "Oh," and quickly returned the hug. Graham found himself once again anchored by the other man's body, but this time warm and breathing and holding him right back. He closed his eyes and was finally able to start relaxing his exhausted muscles.

"This is quite nice to come back to," Jack murmured in Graham's ear.

"You've got a lot of explaining to do, mate," Graham managed.

"I will, promise . . . In a minute?"

"In a minute," Graham agreed, resting his head on Jack's shoulder.

* * *

A faint beeping that came from another room broke the peaceful moment.

"That's not good." Jack immediately pulled back, alarm evident on his face.

"What's wrong?" Graham asked, but the other man just stood and rushed towards the source of the noise.

Graham groaned as he laboriously rose to his feet, following into the other room at a more reasonable pace. Jack sat at a desk, typing furiously. The monitor and keyboard he used seemed normal enough, but they were plugged into a machine that looked like no earthly computer Graham had ever seen.

He opened his mouth to ask again, just as Jack slammed his fist into the desk.

"Damn it!" the Captain cursed. He swiveled his chair to finally acknowledge Graham. "They've set up a temporal interference field around the whole facility, and a surveillance scan across half the continent if this is correct."

Graham blinked, wondering what any of that meant to him.

"The people you and your friends were investigating, they detected the teleport in and out. I can't scan past their shields anymore. And if I try to use my vortex manipulator, they'll be able to triangulate our position." Jack's voice fell as he spoke.

Graham was silent for a moment. "So . . . what do we do?"

"I'm not sure there's anything more we _can _do at the moment." Jack sighed. "I'm running a program that's constantly probing their defenses. As soon as there's any sign of the Doctor or the others, or any opening that would let us get in, we'll be alerted."

"My grandson's still in there, Jack!" Graham's voice rose, panic churning in his stomach.

The Captain's eyes widened. "I didn't realize . . . I'm sorry." He reached out and grabbed one of Graham's hands, squeezing it. "I promise you, as soon as there's a chance. _Any _chance. I'm going to get them out of there safe. All of them."

Graham squeezed Jack's hand back. "Yeah, well, don't think you're charging off on any rescue missions alone. When you go in, I'm going in with you, understand?"

"Understood. Until then, we just have to wait, and trust the Doctor and the people she believes in." Jack pasted on an unconvincing smile. "Can I get you something to drink?"

* * *

Graham fidgeted with his steaming mug, watching distractedly as Jack poured one for himself. The surreality of the situations he fell into while traveling with the Doctor somehow never ceased to amaze him. _I'm having tea with a space captain. A space captain who shouldn't even be _alive_ right now._

Jack sat down across from Graham. "All right. You've got questions, I have answers. So, ask away."

"You were _dead_!" Graham blurted, hand reaching for his mouth in a belated attempt to halt the outburst. Taking a deep breath, he continued, "Properly dead. You had no pulse."

"Ooh, yeah. Sorry for not giving you more of a heads up back there." Jack winced. "I was hoping things wouldn't escalate that quickly, but . . ." he shrugged and spread his arms, "Short answer? I can't die. Period. Just doesn't stick."

Graham's eyes widened. "You one of those Time Lords, then? Like the Doc or - or the Master?"

Jack frowned. "The Master's still around? That's just _great_ news." He shook his head. "But no, I'm no Time Lord, and that wasn't regeneration. Same gorgeous face as ever for me, thankfully. I'm as human as you - or, well, I was. I'm not completely sure what I am any more, to be honest."

Graham's mind reeled as Jack told how another companion of the Doctor had once absorbed the heart of the TARDIS itself, using the power within to resurrect the Captain so thoroughly that it became permanent.

"Now the universe, time, whatever it is; it keeps bringing me back." Jack finished.

"Well I for one am very glad you're here now, mate," Graham told him with a soft smile. The one he received in return was less affected and more vulnerable than he had seen from the roguish man before.

Jack took a sip, and nodded towards Graham's as-yet unsampled mug. He tried it and was surprised by how good it tasted. Jack's American accent had led him to wonder how likely the man was to know how to brew a decent cup of tea.

"Another question?" Jack finally prompted.

"Where exactly are we? How did you find us again so soon?" Graham felt heat rise to his face. "I guess that was technically two questions."

A distant look came across Jack's eyes. "Was it soon for you? It's been . . . longer, for me. Both relevant questions, though!" He shook himself. "I admit, it wasn't hard to figure out that you and your friends - your grandson; that you all came from Sheffield. The Doctor's always had a habit of sniffing out any paranormal trouble lurking around the homes of her friends. So it was pretty much just a matter of looking out for any unusual occurrences in the area."

He gestured to the spartanly-furnished living room around them. "As for this place? An organization I used to work for, Torchwood, had safehouses like this in most cities across the UK. Lucky for me, this one remained uncompromised, and my old access code still worked. So I set up shop here while I kept watch."

"And you're sure the people who run that facility can't find us here?" Graham couldn't help but ask.

"Not unless I use this," Jack tapped his wrist-strap, the mechanical panel now covered by a leather flap. "If they can detect this place without that, then they're so technologically advanced that we might as well be waving sticks at them." He shrugged. "So why not be optimistic?"


End file.
